Police Officer For Hire
by The Non-Socialite
Summary: Elaina Robinson has moved back to London just in time to get to experience "A Study In Pink". As Elaina tags along with Sherlock and John Watson she finds herself roped into their adventures and finds herself closer that ever to the Consulting Detective than she ever thought she would be. What will happen when Moriarty takes a special interest in Elaina
1. First Encounters

***Authors Note***

 **Hello all fanfiction lovers. This is my first Sherlock Fanfiction. I am absolutely in love with Sherlock and I am really excited to start writing. But I have a couple ground rules.**

 **I am always open to suggestions. Reviewing is never obligated but if you don't leave feedback I don't know what to change or add.**

 **Please leave appropriate comments. It doesn't bother me but remember every one reading the reviews will see yours.**

 **That's all. Have fun reading!**

 **First Encounters**

Elaina stood at the crime scene, monitoring the police that entered the building. A tall and rather handsome man approached the tape. A slightly older looking man limped after him looking bewildered. Elaina held up her hand to stop the men from entering. Her boss, Sally Donovan went up to greet them.

"Hello freak." Donovan addressed the taller man.

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade" He replied. His voice was a silky, deep baritone. It seemed to reverberate around the crime scene.

"Why? "

"I was invited."  
"Why?"

"I think he wants me to take a look."  
"You know what I think, don't you? "

"Always, Sally."

Elaina chuckled a bit at their banter. It was glaringly obvious that Donovan didn't hate this man as much as she led on. She couldn't help wonder his name. Donovan had addressed him as "freak" but it was clear that his name wasn't freak.

The tall man turned to look at her. Elaina felt herself being examined. She suddenly wished she was wearing about 70 more layers of clothes. This man made her feel very awkward. She felt very naked as his icy eyes raked over her. He turned back to Donovan.

"Newbie quite obviously if I might say so myself."

I opened my mouth to respond with a stinging retort.

"Oh you're not new to being on the police force. You worked in America for… 6 years about. You moved recently and decided you would make a good detective given your observation skills. You were expecting to get a job higher up in the force but because you didn't tell them that you were an ex-assassin for 3 years before you joined the police force." The man halted as he felt Elaina glaring daggers at him. The look in her eyes yelled 'shut up'. The force of her anger threw the man.

"Anyway…" The handsome man struggled to regain his composure.

"How you possibly know that?" Elaina spat out through gritted teeth.

"Uh… it was rather obvious. The way you adjusted your stance when I came up to you. You instinctively reached for the gun inside your coat pocket. I knew that you were ranked lower that what you should have been by the polite way you backed up for Donovan to come and greet us. Your skirt is old, freshly laundered and finely creased. Conclusion, you recently moved and have just taken that skirt out of your suitcase. A rather small suitcase, judging by how tightly packed the skirt was. Therefore, you are living off a small budget."

A small smile graced her mouth. It hardened into a small frown as soon as Donovan turned to her. "Piss off."

The man grinned and Elaina glared back. Donovan looked back and forth between the two. Elaina turned and frowned at her.

"Oh shut up Donovan. Your thought process is throwing me off. It was obvious that I worked on the police force before and nobody could shoot as accurately as I could because for three years I was payed to kill people." Elaina burst out, "Every time you look at me I can tell how jealous you are that Anderson is ogling at me. I also know you spent the night at his house going by the man deodorant wafting off of you and the state of your knees screams that you scrubbed his floors. I know that the clothes you're wearing now are spares you keep at his house for _special occasions_."

Donovan opened her mouth but Elaina lifted the tape to let the man enter without her permission.

Elaina grabbed her walkie talkie and quickly decided to call the man freak since so far he didn't have a name. "Freak's here."

Lestrade's voice answered back. "Bring him in."

The shorter man made to duck under the tape.

"Woah who's this?" Elaina asked.

"Colleague of mine, Dr. Watson." The taller man responded.

While Elaina was distracted the shorter man, Dr. Watson, ducked under the tape. Elaina sighed and lead them into the house.

"You'll need to wear one of these." Lastrade held up a garish outfit to John and Elaina. Elaina sidestepped his arms and waited at the bottom of the stairs. "Who's this?" Lastrade asked

"He's with me." The man with curls replied  
"But who is he?" Lastrade repeated his question.

"I said he's with me." The man answered, his tone final.  
"Aren't you two going to put one on?" Dr. Watson asked. Elaina and the man with the baritone voice gave him looks of scorn.

"So where are we?" The tall man asked

"Upstairs." Lastrade answered, taken aback by his abrupt manner. "I can give you two minutes."

"May need longer."

"Her name's Jennifer Wilson, according to her credit cards. We're running them now for contact details.

Elaina jumped in with what little knowledge she had. "She hasn't been here long. Some kids found her."

The group pushed through the door, revealing the body clothed in pink. It wasn't as though Elaina hadn't seen dead people before but the sight still made her a bit queasy. She stumbled back a few paces and clutched the hand rail before straightening up and following the tall man, doctor, and detective inspector.


	2. Jennifer Wilson

**Jennifer Wilson**

"Shut up" Elaina and the tall man chorused at Lestrade.

"I didn't say anything." Lastrade said indignant.

"You were thinking." The tall man explained

"It's annoying" Elaina chimed in.

"Oh God, there're two of them!" Lestrade muttered under his breath. This mumbling didn't go unnoticed by the tall man and Elaina as they shot the graying detective identical death glares.

The man dressed in the Belstaff coat crouched next to the body. Elaina finally took the opportunity to look at the dead women. Her jewelry was all clean except a 10-year-old wedding ring and her blond hair was in a state of disarray. Her clothes screamed reporter. The rather alarming shade of pink confirmed it. Elaina knelt next to the women. She was a serial adultery. The shade of lipstick shrieked alluring. Elaina felt Jennifer Wilson's coat and her fingers came off damp. Under her collar was damp as well although Elaina was at a loss as to why her coat was wet but not her umbrella. The word "Rache" was scratched into the floor with her left hand. The thought of how much pain the woman must have been in as she scratched her final words into the wood turned Elaina's stomach. She stood to announce her findings before she had to bolt from the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her.

"What do we have?" Lestrade questioned.

The door creaked open, revealing a slightly disheveled Anderson. He chimed in his input. "She German."

"Yes thank you for your input." The baritone man acknowledged. Elaina stared at him in shock. It seemed obvious that Jennifer Wilson wasn't German. Elaina shifted through letters to finish the word as the tall man shut the door in Anderson's face (Something Elaina had wanted to do for a long time).

"So she's German?" Lestrade asked and Elaina rolled her eyes at his obliviousness

"Of course not. Intended to stay in London for one night before returning home to Cardiff - so far, so obvious." The man said in a matter-of-fact voice

"Sorry, obvious?" Lestrade said in a bewildered tone. He turned Elaina as she nodded in agreement with the curly haired man.

"What about the message, though? Dr. Watson, what do you think?" The tall man asked

"Of the message?"

"Of the body. You're a medical man."  
" We have a whole team outside." Lestrade argued

"They won't work with me." The man replied. Elaina might have imagined it but a sad look overtook his usual arrogance for a second.  
"I'm breaking every rule letting you in here" Lestrade's voice rose a bit and it seemed he was near

shouting. Elaina backed up half a step in fear.

"Yes, because you need me." The unknown man pointed out.

"Yes, I do. God help me." Lestrade answered, anger defused by the man's calming nature.

Elaina found his nonchalance at the sight of the body a bit unnerving.

"Dr. Watson!" The man summoned his companion forward.

"Hm? Oh, do as he says. Help yourself." Lestrade said in a defeated tone. "Anderson, keep everyone

out for a couple of minutes"

Elaina followed the detective inspector out of the room. As soon as she exited she dropped into a nearby chair and took deep, shuddering breaths as she lowered her head to rest in her lap. So far she had been able to keep her cool in the presence of the handsome man, not for his appearance but because his ability to analyze weaknesses. Detective Inspector Lestrade turned around at the wheezing breaths that he heard behind him. Noticing his collapsed colleague, he dropped to his knees besides her. She looked up and gave him a small smile before ducking her head again. She felt a steady hand on her trembling shoulder. Slowly she began to calm down.

"S-sorry" Elaina croaked out.

"You're fine. It takes a bit of time to get used to it. The dead bodies." Lestrade reassured her.

Having lost her father at a young age, Lestrade had become a fatherly figure. She nodded in agreement. Helping her stand he led her back into the room. Now she was ready for the body it didn't shock her as much as the first time. The tall man explained his reasoning and observation but Elaina tuned him out since he was repeating thing she already knew. She stared to pay attention as the man explained why her coat was wet but not her umbrella since it was the only thing she couldn't figure out.

"Her coat - it's slightly damp, she's been in heavy rain in the last few hours - no rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her pocket, but it's dry and unused. Not just wind, strong wind - too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, but she can't have traveled more than two or three hours, because her coat still hasn't dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time? Cardiff." The man said, displaying his phone.

"Fantastic." Watson confirmed.

"Do you know you do that?" Belstaff coat asked.

"Sorry. I'll shut up." Elaina giggled at their exchange.

"Why do you keep saying suitcase?" Lestrade inquired.

"Yes where is? She must have had a phone or organizer."

"Find out who Rachel is." The man yelled in sudden understanding.

"She was writing Rachel?"

" No, she was leaving an angry note in German! Of course she was writing Rachel, no other word it can be. But why did she wait until she was dying to write it?"

"How do you know she had a suitcase?"

"Tiny splash marks on her right heel and calf not present on the left." Elaina jumped in. "She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Don't get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious - could only be an overnight bag so we know she was staying one night."

"Where is it? What have you done with it?" Sherlock asked, frantic light dancing in his eyes.

"There wasn't a case." Lestrade answered.  
"Say that again."  
"There wasn't a case."  
"There was never any suitcase."  
The man darted out of the room and began yelling down the stairs. "Suitcase! Did anyone find a

suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?"

"Sherlock, there was no case!" Elaina filed away that the man's name was Sherlock

"They take the poison themselves, they swallow the pills. There are clear signs, even you lot

couldn't miss them."

"Right, thanks. And?"

"It's murder, all of them. I don't know how. But they're not suicides, they're serial killings. We've got a serial killer. Love those. There's always something to look forward to. Someone else was here and they took her case. So the killer must have driven here. Forgot the case was in the car.  
"She could have checked into a hotel, left it there." Watson chimed in  
"No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She colour-coordinates her lipstick and shoes.  
She'd never have left any hotel with her hair still looking…Oh Oh!" He jumped back as though he had a realization.

"Sherlock? What is it, what?"

"Serial killers, always hard." Elaina giggled at his enthusiasm then stopped as her coworkers sent her strange looks. She watched as Sherlock ran out of the building and Elaina made a split second decision. Jumping down stairs two at a time, she followed Sherlock into the night. She caught up to him as he was hailing a cab.

"An ex-assassin?" Sherlock questioned.

Elaina nodded and he beckoned her into the cab and pulled her down into the seat and shut the door.


	3. Three Patch Problem

**Three Patch Problem**

Elaina tried to ask Sherlock what they were doing in the back of a cab but quickly gave up as the man turned his icy blue eyes on her and glared. Elaina glared back. So far she detested this man. He was so arrogant and stuck up. She was still at a loss as to why she had agreed to come with him. She could only assume her services were needed. She stewed in silence until it became deafening and she was feeling rather uncomfortable. Drawing out her phone to look something up a large cold hand grasped her wrist. Her heart sped up as she shoved his hand off of hers.

"Your typing would disturb me." He explained.

'Oh yes sure. You grabbing me and dragging me into a cab so we can go tramping across London wasn't disturbing me at all." She accused, sarcasm lining her voice.

"Good." Sherlock said. Elaina barked out a laugh. "What?" Sherlock asked obviously not knowing why Elaina was laughing.

"I was being sarcastic." Elaina clarified.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Five minutes later he pulled over the cab. Elaina jumped out of the cab and Sherlock made to leave as well the cabby turned around and grabbed his coat.

"You two having a row? Well don't let her get away. She's a pretty girl. And a sense of humour is never bad." The cabby said in a strong Scottish accent.

"What? We're not- She's not." Sherlock gave up and exited the cab. He supposed the girl was rather pretty. With long black hair, light green-grey eyes, and a rather curvy figure he could understand why Anderson was looking at her but he viewed her as simply another human. Sure she was pretty but it didn't mean anything. He relied more on intelligence and skills but so far the girl had demonstrated very little of either. Sherlock realized he didn't even know her name.

"Excuse me but I didn't catch your name." Sherlock said, his voice overflowing with fake politeness.

"Elaina Robinson." She answered in a vague, distant voice. Sherlock frowned. Usually his polite voice had girls falling over themselves to get close to him. He knew he was good looking and he could use it to his advantage. Sherlock also knew that if he and this girl were to work together they would need to be on a slightly friendly basis but one of the few areas of expertise was lacking in was friendship.

"Look I get the impression that you don't want to work with me."

"Go figure. Did it take your genius brain to work that one out?"

Sherlock was puzzled as to why she was being so cold to him. He tried to connect the dots but they had no numbers and her had no ruler to connect them with. The mystery of women was also a puzzle to him. Elaina had seemed to tolerate him when she was grilling Donovan but know she wouldn't even look at him.

"Ok. Um… My name is Sherlock Holmes and I live in 221B Baker Street."

Elaina jerked at the sound of his last name. Sherlock noted her reaction. She knew his brother then.

"Elaina Robison. Currently residing at Calford Road." The indifference bled out of her words.

"When you say currently…"

"Well I had a good job but I probably won't have one after tonight because you let it slip that I'm an ex-assassin."

"Really? I thought it's rather… cool for the lack of a better word."

"Yes well not everyone is a psychopath." Elaina felt her mask of vagueness slide a bit.

"I'm not a psychopath. I prefer the term high-functioning-sociopath." Sherlock said as he noticed the effect his humour was having.

Elaina fought to rearrange her mask but instead burst out in laughter. Sherlock recoiled at her reaction. What he had said wasn't to terribly funny. Not to him anyway.

"What am I doing here?" She asked.

"The suitcase. He had to dispose of it somewhere within a five-mile radius if he was smart."

"You just blindly assume the killer was a man?"

"It's obvious, right?"

"Yes but I wanted to make sure you knew."

Elaina watched as Sherlock made for a roof but Elaina grabbed his coat.

"Don't go up there. This man is old. He wouldn't climb a roof. We need to check the ground."

After an hour of searching they located the case which was, as predicted, bright pink. Hailing another cab, the pair drove back to Sherlock's flat. Elaina's mask of indifference was back. Sherlock had been the one to try and start a conversation but Elaina had worn the same expression Sherlock wore when he was in his Mind Palace. Her elegant hands were in a praying position under her chin. Sherlock made the best of the silence, examining every inch of Elaina. Her chipped mint nail polish had been done the morning but because it was chipped it meant she had left her flat in a rush. Other than that, Sherlock fond no other clues about Elaina's everyday life. This girl was a mystery and one Sherlock wasn't high enough to deal with.

Upon arriving at 221B Elaina had been smothered by a warm set of arms by the name of Hudson. She had spent the returning cab ride in her Mind Library. It was a memory technique introduced to her by Mycroft Holmes. It was under his authority that she had worked as an assassin, finally managing to go to America to kill an inconsequential man but instead of returning to London she had remained in American until Mycroft had come after her, urging her to return to Britain. While she was in her Mind Library she had revisited her past. Sherlock reminded her of somebody she couldn't put her finger on.

Making her way up the stairs to the flat she had stumbled, the day's exhaustion and then running around London with Sherlock and the sleepless night from before had finally caught up with her. Staggering up the steps she had collapsed into a red overstuffed armchair. Straining to keep her eyes open proved to be fruitless and the last thing she saw was Sherlock reaching for Nicotine packages.

Sherlock calmly observed the now motionless figure in John's armchair. His mind was in a whirlwind. He understood that it would be socially acceptable to carry her to a bed but her noticed what a light sleeper she was. There was no way that he could move her without Elaina waking. And he knew once he woke her there was no way she would fall back asleep. He decided to leave her there.

Sherlock grabbed his Nicotine patches and laid on the couch. He applied one patch for the case then grabbed one more for Elaina. For a second he considered his predicament and applied one more patch for Elaina.


	4. The Pink Case

**The Pink Case**

Elaina was aroused by the sound of a slight groan. She cracked open her eyes and was greeted by the sight of Sherlock's arm thrown over his eyes and his sleeve rolled up to reveal three nicotine patches. Elaina laughed to herself until she realized that his arm was covered in nicotine. Leaping up she shook the detective's arm. He lifted up his arm and looked up at her with sleepy eyes.

"Do you have death wish?" Three patches! You must be crazy." Elaina choked out.

"Ah. You're up."

"Yes and you are slowly killing yourself. How long was I out?" Elaina questioned.

"About an hour." Sherlock answered.

"Hmm. I never really sleep. I apologize for disturbing you"

"It's fine." Sherlock waved nonchalantly at her. "Judging by the bags under your eyes you were 3 days overdue for a nap. Honestly you still look horrible. You should go back to sleep."

"I'm okay. I'm used to functioning on little to no sleep. Where's Dr. Watson?"

"I shot him a text. I need to use his phone." Sherlock confessed.

"Why not use your own?" Elaina wondered.

"In case the number's recognized. And I didn't want to wake you up."

"You should have just woke me up. Dr. Watson might be halfway across London right now."

"It's fine. The text I sent was perfectly acceptable."

Elaina grabbed his phone. "'If convenient come to 221B.' 'If inconvenient come anyway' 'Could be dangerous?'" She read aloud

She quickly typed in another message to Dr. Watson and noticed his contact name was John.

" _Excuse me Dr. Watson, this is Elaina. You met me last night. Please don't rush over here. Sherlock is fine."_ She pushed the send button as Sherlock grabbed the phone out of her grasp.

"That's not true!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Then why are you lounging on the sofa, covering yourself in nicotine?"

"Because it's impossible to maintain a smoking habit in London." Sherlock answered bluntly.

Elaina stared flabbergasted at him. This man was unbelievable. She felt a spark of dislike in her gut.

"Ugh. I look horrible. I'm running back to my flat to grab some clothes and shower then I'll come back." Elaina announced.

Sherlock hummed in acknowledgment before closing his eyes again. Elaina dashed out of the flat and haled a cab.

Sherlock opened his eyes some 30 minutes later and looked about the vacant flat. He heard the steps creak and he sat up in anticipation only to flop back onto sofa discovering the footsteps belonged to John. He felt disappointed. Why? Because he was expecting Elaina? The idea was ludicrous and made him snort.

"What are you doing?" John asked

"Nicotine patch. Helps me think. Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work." Sherlock answered

"It's good news for breathing." John replied  
"Oh, breathing! Breathing's boring."  
"Is that three patches?" John said

"It's a three-patch problem."  
"Well? You asked me to come, I'm assuming it's important."  
"Oh, yeah, of course. Can I borrow your phone?"

A softer pair of footsteps padded up to the flat. John's eyes widened noticeably as the curvy ex-assassin waltzed in. Elaina had changed into a floaty yellow tunic with black leggings. She had put foundation under her eyes to mask the tired bruises under her eyes. She smiled at the man, quickly deducing he was army doctor from Afghanistan, had a sister with a drinking problem, and he craved adrenaline. Elaina instantly took to the man.

"Doctor Watson is it? Elaina Robinson." She said, lowering her voice to a seductive purr. She had learned how to deal with men and had flirted her way into the United States F.B.I. system. She mentally shook herself. She was past charming random strangers to get what she wanted. It was all in her past. She adjusted her voice but not before noticing Sherlock glaring at John with something resembling jealousy. "How are we doing in Afghanistan?"

"Did you tell her?" John asked staring at Elaina in disbelief.

"No he didn't. But your tan screams Afghanistan." Elaina replied.

"Wow Sherlock. Where did you find her? She's so like you!" John announced.

Elaina grumbled and John recoiled at the look of hatred in her eyes. In a flash the anger was gone, replaced by gooey seductiveness. "Oh yes. Darling Sher was just too good of an opportunity to past up. He's just so… down to earth." Elaina shot Sherlock a look telling him to play along.

"Um… Ellie is just delightful." Elaina cringed at the nickname before gasping a bit as Sherlock drew her into his chest and she felt her head being pushed into his shirt. She snuggled close and burst out laughing at the shock on John's face.

"Okay enough!" Elaina giggled. "It's nice to meet you."

"Wait you two aren't… you're not really…"

"No of course not John." Sherlock added in his deep baritone voice, "All joking aside we found the case."

Elaina drew it out from under John's chair.

"Ms. Robinson if you would please send a text."

"Sure" Elaina answered, pulling out her mobile.

"Enter the number on my desk. Then type these words exactly. 'What happened at Lauriston Gardens. I must have blacked out. 22 Northumberland Street. Please come'."

"Done" Elaina said, snapping her mobile shut. "Who did I just text?"

"That's the case. That's the pink lady's case" John croaked.

"Yes obviously. And maybe I should mention Elaina and I didn't kill her."

"I never said you did"

"Why not? Given the text I just had Elaina send and the fact I have her case, it's a perfectly logical assumption."

"Do people usually assume you're the murder?"

"Now and again, yes."

"Wait!" Elaina blurted, "Did I just text a murderer? What good will that do?"

"A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her.  
If somebody had just found that phone, they'd ignore a text like that," Elaina's phone began to ring. "but the murderer would panic." Sherlock announced, slamming the suitcase shut.

Sherlock grabbed his Belstaff coat and grabbed Elaina's trench coat as well. He held it out and she slipped into it

"Dear Mr. Holmes. Are we traveling to where I think we are traveling?"

"Depends on where you think we're going."

"Northumberland Street." Elaina answered.

"Very good Ms. Robinson."

John's eyes widened as he witnessed Sherlock flirting with Elaina. He hadn't known the man long but Sherlock Holmes didn't strike him as a romantic fellow. John grinned and followed them out of the flat.


	5. Angelio's

**Angelio's**

Sherlock, Elaina, and John grabbed a cab and had it drop them off at Angelio's. Angelio was a buff man with a long beard. _No_ Elaina thought. _He's not buff. He is chubby._ Angelio lead them to a table next to the window on the request of Sherlock. Ever the gentleman, John took Elaina's coat and pulled out a chair. Just as Elaina made to sit down, Sherlock grabbed her hand and pulled her into to booth next to himself.

"Why didn't you let me sit in that perfectly good chair over there. It's the difference of about 2 feet!" Elaina whisper-yelled at Sherlock.

"Isn't it obvious? You are much better at making observations than John."

"That's mean Sherlock!" Elaina slapped his arm.

"Your point?"

Elaina huffed and turned away, ready to engage John in a sensible conversation. Angelio approached the table.

"A candle will set off the mood nicely. You and your friend fighting over that nice lady."

John and Elaina broke off the conversation at the awkward exchange between Sherlock and Angelio. They looked up at the chubby man, intent on telling him that he was wrong but he dashed away, grabbed a small candle, and placed it at the table. Before he excused himself, he leaned down to whisper in Elaina's ear. Angelio turned out to be incapable of whispering, much to Elaina's disappointment.

"I cannot pick for the young lady, but I would think Sherlock would make a good choice." The man said in a rather terrible Italian accent.

Elaina had been sitting with a rather pleased expression but as Angelio uttered the simple words, her gaze had hardened and her smile died.

"I appreciate the input," Elaina growled, "But I think it's none of your business."

Angelio's smile faltered. He bustled away from the table without replying. Sherlock shot her a smirk.

"So this the real Elaina Robinson. I was waiting to get a glimpse of her."

Elaina gave him a sarcastic, mocking smirk. "I don't know what you're talking about."

John cut in quickly, sensing an argument starting. "So tell me about yourself Elaina."

Elaina sighed inwardly. She had been expecting the question. Instead of giving them the full story, she decided to edit her version. "I was born in London. I attended school and went to school, majoring in science and math. When I was 24 I got a job an elementary school teaching math. It was a good job but I was…cut loose. After 2 months I was able to get a standard receptionist job. It was dull and boring. Everyone on my level heard a rumor that an uppity up was in need of an assistant. There was flurry of batting eyelashes and kissing up. I ignored all the excitement but somehow…"

Sherlock cut in "You were picked as the assistant."

"Yah. Anyway the uppity up was Mycroft Holmes. Instead of an assistant he wanted a spy. Trained in combat. I killed innocents. Sometimes unknowingly, sometimes completely aware. I was sent to America but instead of returning here I stayed there. Mycroft left me alone and I thought I was out of the woods and I got a job on the police force and for six years I was happy. Then Mycroft stormed into my flat in the middle of the night. My boyfriend was staying the night and broke up with me, assuming that I was cheating on him for Mycroft since he had access to my flat. Mycroft had to drug me to get me on a plane without me calling the police. Now I'm back in London, I'm a detective inspector in training, and I have no idea why Mycroft wanted me to come back here." Elaina's voice broke at the end "I was _happy_! I didn't have to worry about some random killer breaking into my apartment. And now…"

"My brother has employed you to spy on me." Sherlock said in a somewhat gentle voice.

"Yes. And I agreed. I didn't know. Now that I do I gave back all the money and I resigned."

"Pity. You should have accepted the money. Think it through next time."

"There won't be a next time. I am done with Mycroft Holmes and I'm done with my past."

John rest a calming hand and Elaina collapsed into the embrace. While they were hugging, Sherlock was doing what he did best when people were emotional. He looked awkward. Just as he opened his mouth to say something incredibly insensitive, a cab stopped outside 22 Northumberland Street. Abandoning everything, Sherlock leapt up and exited the restaurant in a hurry. Extracting themselves from their tight hug, Elaina and John chased after him, John halting only to slap some notes on the table before following.

What preceded the exiting of the restaurant could only be called an adrenaline rush. Elaina kept up with Sherlock very well and John lagged a bit behind. Halfway through the chase Elaina noticed that John was running along with them without his walking cane. She opened her mouth to inform John but Sherlock realized her thought process and quickly sent her a desperate look, conveying that he wished for Elaina not to tell his companion. Shaking her head in laughter the continued running after the cab.

Finally, they caught up and paused the cab. Opening the cab door to accuse the supposed murder only to discover a 35-year-old American in the seat. Obvious not the killer. Quick to cover up his mistake Sherlock faked being a police.

"Sorry Police! Open her up." Sherlock announced in a pompous voice. Grasping the cab door, he

wretched it open.

"No, Teeth, tan What, Californian? LA, Santa Monica. Just arrived." He muttered in obvious disappointment.

"First trip to London, right? Going by your final destination and the cabbie's route." Elaina said.  
"Sorry, are you guys the police?" The man asked in a confused tone.

"Yeah." Sherlock and Elaina displayed their badges. "Everything all right?"  
"Yeah." The man said, obviously confused.  
"Welcome to London." Sherlock and Elaina chorused before running off.  
"Er, any problems, just let us know." John said in an attempt to make up for Elaina and Sherlock's rudeness following after the pair.

Panting as he caught up to them he wheezed out "Basically just a cab that happened to slow down."  
"Basically." Elaina said  
"Not the murderer?" John asked  
"Not the murderer, no." Sherlock chimed in.  
"Wrong country, good alibi." John said to clarify. "Hey, where did you get that?"  
"Detective Inspector Lestrade?" Elaina complained.  
"I pickpocket him when he's annoying." Sherlock explained.

Elaina giggled and shoved Sherlock a bit. "You must pickpocket him a lot."

"Yah" Sherlock agreed.

John looked over his shoulder in time to notice the man from L.A. conversing with some police.

"Got your breath back?" Sherlock asked

"Ready when you are" Elaina said.

Together they jogged away and headed back to 221B Baker Street.

John and Sherlock leaned against the wall of 221B, panting and wheezing. Elaina had gone knocking on Mrs. Hudson's

door, begging to use her shower. The doorbell rung and Sherlock waved John to answer it.

"Elaina texted me and said you forgot this." Angelio held out John's cane.

"Thanks" John replied, shaking his head as he thought about the curvy ex-assassin.


	6. Drugs Bust and The Cabbie

**Before I begin I would like to thank everyone who has read this fanfiction.**

 **When I started I had doubts that anyone would read it. Every time I log in I look**

 **at the traffic graph and I am so please to see that more people read it.**

 **Special thanks to LadyBugLover and Rosebud1011 for reviewing. You always make my day.**

 **To LadyBugLover I am so pleased you like my story. I can't wait to see more Sherlaina.**

 **To Rosebud1011 Thank you so much for your review. It almost made me cry. You are so sweet.**

 **To galwidatitud I totally get what you're saying. Sometimes it gets really difficult to make her mean since she seems so friendly. I plan on having Sherlock break her out of her shell so I need her to be a bit antisocial and depressed. Also she wasn't being depressed towards Sherlock. She was thinking. Tell me if I need to clarify.**

 **Without further ado I am proud to introduce** ** _Drugs Bust and The Cabbie_**

 **Drugs Bust and The Cabbie**

As Sherlock and John waited for Elaina to emerge, Mrs. Hudson ran downstairs. "Oh Sherlock, what have you done?"

As if on cue, Elaina ran out of Mrs. Hudson's flat, her hair damp and she had obviously dashed out in a hurry. Her eyes were large and she looked frightened.

"I heard something crash upstairs!"

Together they rushed up the stair only to confront Lestrade. Elaina and John gaped at the mess the police force was tearing apart the flat. Sherlock just looked mildly annoyed at the destruction that everyone was causing. That is until he saw the pink case flipped open on the ottoman.

"What are you doing?" he said in obvious distaste.

"I knew you'd find the case. I'm not stupid." Lestrade announced. Elaina snorted.

"Could've fooled me." She whispered.

"You can't just break in to my flat" Sherlock said in a snide tone.

"You can't withhold evidence - and I didn't break in." Lestrade retorted  
"What do you call this, then?" Sherlock asked sarcastically

"It's a drugs bust." Lestrade said as though he had just thought of the excuse before he had arrived at the flat.  
"Seriously? This guy - a junkie? - Have you met him?" John chipped in. Elaina sent him a frantic look. She had noticed

almost as soon as she had met him. It didn't matter to her. He wasn't dangerous as far as she could tell.

"John" Elaina said to get him to shut him up

"You could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational." John continued as though Elaina hadn't said a thing  
"John, you probably want to shut up now." Sherlock tried.  
"But come on" John argued "No"

"What?" A guilty look spread across Sherlock's face–

"You?" John said incredulously

"Shut up!" He said in indignation. He turned to address Lestrade "I'm not your sniffer dog."  
"No, Anderson's my sniffer dog." Lestrade said in a matter-a-fact tone  
"Anderson, what are you doing here on a drugs bust?" Elaina asked

"Oh, I volunteered." Anderson appeared from behind the kitchen door. His eyes widened as he saw Elaina and a slight flush crept up his neck.  
"They all did. They're not strictly speaking on the drug squad, but they're very keen." Lestrade said in an attempt to refocus Anderson who was still staring at Elaina  
"Are these human eyes?" Donovan emerged, holding up a jar. Elaina sighed inwardly. She really didn't want to worry about Donovan.

"Put those back!" Sherlock practically shrieked

"They were in the microwave." Donovan explained

"It's an experiment." Sherlock said in a defeated voice  
"Keep looking, guys." Lestrade encouraged his team "Or you could help us properly, and I'll stand them down."  
"This is childish." Sherlock whined

"Well, I'm dealing with a child. Sherlock, this is our case. I'm letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?"  
"So you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?"

"It stops being pretend if we find anything." Lestrade rolled his eyes in a condescending way.  
"I am clean!" Sherlock protested loudly

"Is your flat? All of it?"

"I don't even smoke." Sherlock rolled up his sleeve to expose a nicotine patch. Elaina was tempted to ask him to pull his sleeve up higher. She was almost certain that his sleeve was still hiding two more patches.  
"Neither do I. So let's work together." Lestrade revealed his own patch. "We've found Rachel." He said in an afterthought

"Who is she?" Sherlock asked, excitement lighting up his voice  
"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter. Elaina said, reading some files on Sherlock's desk.  
"Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter's name? Why?" Sherlock asked in bewilderment

"Never mind that, we found the case. According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favorite psychopath." Anderson pointed out  
"Not a psychopath, I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research." Sherlock said in a bored and annoyed voice "You need to bring Rachel in to question her. I need to question her."  
"She's dead." Lestrade said bluntly  
"Excellent. How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be." Sherlock bombarded Lestrade with questions. Lestrade's eyes widened at the onslaught." Well, I doubt it, since she's been dead for 1 4 years. Technically, she was never alive."

"Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter, 1 4 years ago." Elaina clarified as she gazed at the files in her hand.  
"Oh, that's not right. How Why would she do that? Why?" Sherlock asked franticly  
"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yep - sociopath, I'm seeing it now." Anderson challenged him in a sarcastic tone.

"She didn't think about her daughter." She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort, it would have hurt." As Sherlock described the gruesome details, the 'drug squad' looked a bit queasy.  
"You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well, maybe he, I don't know, talks to them. Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow." John attempted to help since he had contributed very little to the conversation.  
"But that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?" Sherlock said in a confused tone. He noticed everyone's silence. "Not good?" He asked pitifully  
"Bit not good, yeah." Elaina giggled before remembering that she was supposed to be somber.  
"If you were dying, if you'd been murdered, in your very last few seconds, what would you say?" Sherlock asked John, abandoning the conversation of his lack of sensitivity.

"Please, God, let me live." John said  
"Use your imagination!" Sherlock said frustrated.

"I don't have to." John declared. As usual a polite silence for John's ordeal ensued.  
"Yeah, but if you were clever, really clever" Sherlock, ignored the silence and carried on with the conversation. "Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers-she was clever. She's trying to tell us something."  
"Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson emerged from the stairs.

"I didn't order a taxi. Go away." Sherlock dismissed her easily. Elaina wished she had been close enough to slap him.  
"Oh, dear. They're making such a mess. What are they looking for?" Mrs. Hudson said, looking a bit uneasy.  
"It's a drugs bust, Mrs. Hudson." John explained  
"But they're just for my hip. They're herbal soothers" Mrs. Hudson fanned herself and looked a bit guilty.

"We're not talking about you're 'herbal soothers'" Elaina tried to comfort the older woman.

"Shut up, everybody! Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe. I'm trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You're putting me off." Sherlock gasped  
"What? My face is" Anderson protested. Elaina completely agreed with Sherlock

"Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back." Lestrade urged.  
"Oh, for God's sake!" Anderson yelled

"Your back, now, please!" Lestrade screamed back. The urgency in his voice was sever enough that Anderson (though still groaning) turned around.

"Come on, think. Quick!" Sherlock muttered to himself.  
"What about your taxi?" Mrs. Hudson interrupted.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock belted. Then he smiled, rolling his head slowly. "Oh Ah! She was clever. Clever, yes! She's cleverer than you lot and she's dead. Do you see? Do you get it? She didn't lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted it on him." Sherlock tried to explain but everyone just looked at him. The Elaina gasped.  
"When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer." Elaina tried to elaborate  
"But how?" Lestrade asked

"What do you mean, how? Rachel! Don't you see? Rachel!" Sherlock said as though the big climax was here. Everyone sat there looking blank. "Oh Look at you lot. You're all so vacant." Elaina coughed suggestively. "Not you. Well not _all_ the time." He turned to address the rest of his onlookers "Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing. Rachel is not a name."  
"Then what is it?" Lestrade asked in a frustrated voice.

"John, on the luggage, there's a label. E-mail address."  
"Er, .uk." John read out  
"She didn't have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone. So it's a smartphone, it's e-mail enabled. So there was a website for her account." Sherlock said, while frantically typing away at his computer. He entered in the email address. "The username is her e-mail address, and all together now, the password is? - Rachel."  
"So we can read her e-mails. So what?" Anderson complained and Elaina sighed  
"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the whole street." Sherlock rebuked him before Elaina could "We can do much more than that. It's a smartphone, it's got GPS. Which means if you lose it, you can locate it online. She's leading us to the man who killed her."  
"Unless he got rid of it." Lestrade suggested  
"We know he didn't. Come on, come on. Quickly!" Sherlock berated himself.  
"Sherlock, dear. This taxi driver-" Mrs. Hudson tried to catch Sherlock's attention but he cut her off.  
"Mrs. Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?"

"Get vehicles, get a helicopter. This phone battery won't last forever." Lestrade jumped into action.  
"We'll just have a map reference, not a name." Someone said  
"It's a start! Sherlock. Narrow it down from just anyone in London. It's the first proper lead we've had. Sherlock Where is it? Quickly, where?" Lestrade asked

"Here. It's in 221 Baker Street." John answered  
'How can it be here? How? Maybe it was in the case when you brought it back - and it fell out somewhere.' Lestrade asked  
"And I didn't notice it? I didn't notice? Anyway, we texted him, and he called back." John disagreed  
"Guys, we're also looking for a mobile somewhere here, belonged to the victim." Lestrade called to his team

Elaina looked at Sherlock and could see the gears whirling in his head. Looking past Sherlock's shoulder, she noticed a man, old and graying, holding a pink phone. He pushed the red button on it and disappeared down the stairs. She gasped, information whirling past her, like things in a tornado. She was jerked out of thought as she heard John "Sherlock, are you OK?" She watched as he stumbled down the stairs.

"What? Yeah, yeah I'm fine." Sherlock waved him off.

Elaina grabbed her coat and rushed after Sherlock as her mind formed one coherent thought.

 _The cabbie_

 **Thank You so much for reading this chapter. But it is now that I call upon my dear readers for assistance. I launched into this fic without a plan. I honestly have no idea where this is going. So I need your input. Should Elaina go with Sherlock to face their doom together or should she stay at 221B?**

 **Please tell me. I can't update until you do. Otherwise I'll make a decision and it will turn out horribly.**

 **Thank you to all of you who reviewed. I appreciate it. One more thing. I feel as though I'm following the script too much. This chapter was almost all dialogue. Can you give me some suggestions for other cases that Elaina and Sherlock can do together (I promise I'll give you credit)?**

 **Thanks all y'all**

 **The-Non-Socialite**


	7. Twin Pills

**Sorry for the delay**

 **The Wise and All-Powerful Readers have spoken and so it has been decided that Elaina should go with Sherlock.**

 **Thank You so much and I hope you enjoy this Chapter.**

Twin Pills

Elaina bolted after the detective in time to see him enter the cab. She inwardly groaned, only coming up with one idea to go with Sherlock. It would be the second time in one day that she would have to do this but it was for Sherlock. Fingering her gun, she approached the cab and honeyed her voice.

"Sherly dear. Where are you going? I thought we were in the middle of a case. And then you were going to take me to dinner." She raised her voice to a whine and pouted. "Now I'm going to be too _skinny_! You know what it does to my appetite."

Sherlock stared at her in disbelieve before joining in with her game "Darling" He tried to console her. He stuttered over the foreign word and rolled it around on his tongue, experimenting with it. "Urgent business. This man demands my attention."

"A cabbie?" She said in obvious distaste. "A cabbie needs Sherlock Holmes attention. You're much too important for _his_ type!"

Sherlock was a bit taken back by the venom in her formally sweet voice. Before he could dwell on it, the old man turned around and gave her a frigid and horrible toothy grin.

"Why don't you come with us Darling. We're going somewhere fun."

"It better not be somewhere with dirt." Elaina said quickly to cover her surprise at being addressed. "And don't call me Darling. The only man that calls me Darling is my Sherly"

"Oh Dear. Don't bother my clients." Sherlock reprimanded her. Elaina slumped in fake disappointment before sliding into the seat next to him. She cuddled up close to his warm chest and felt him become stiff under her close proximity. Reaching up to caress his cheek she leaned in and whispered in his ear. "Play along. We're supposed to be d _eeply_ in love."

The cab driver interjected their fake intimate embrace "So who's this lovely lady?"

Elaina blushed "Oh I'm… Laurie Gardens. I'm an aspiring model." She said, making up a name on the spot. Laurieson Gardens and Laurie Gardens had matched well. She hoped the cabbie wouldn't notice.

"Hm… Well you are quite attractive." Eliana giggled flirtingly.

'Kindly shut up Laurie. I have to focus"

"Oh yah. Okay" She said abashed.

Sherlock examined the man as the cabbie drove them down streets, his car twisting and following a route unknown to his passengers. Little they know that as they were speeding down London Streets, John was tracking them on his computer. He shouted directions at his cabbie and tried to get a hold of Detective Inspector Lestrade.

Sherlock and Elaina reached the desired location when the former piped up "Where are we?"

"You know every street in London. You know exactly where we are." The cabbie answered as he opened the door. Before Sherlock could climb out, something metal was pushed under his coat. He felt Elaina's delicate fingers push on his rib cage. She traced the outline of the gun she had given Sherlock  
"Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why here?" He responded to the question and asked his own, while shoving the gun into an inside pocket of his coat.  
"It's open. One thing about being a cabbie - you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I'm surprised more of us don't branch out." The cabbie explained in a slightly disinterested voice.  
"And you just walk your victims in? How?" Sherlock said, before his face dropped in disappointment as a gun was pulled and it was swiveled to point at Elaina. "Oh Dull."  
"Don't worry. It gets better." The old man encouraged the detective, silently catching his attention without being to blunt.  
"You can't make people take their own lives at gunpoint." Elaina said. She had been pretending to be oblivious and scared at the fact that a gun was pointed at her head, but as he had worked to goad Sherlock her voice hardened and her grey eyes became stone-cold.  
"I don't." The cabbie clarified. "It's much better than that. Don't need this with you. Cos you'll follow me." He pocketed the gun and turned around to enter the collage building. Sherlock sighed but followed him. Elaina made to get out after him but Sherlock turned and his eyes screamed _I'm sorry_ before he locked the car and Elaina inside. Elaina watched his retreating figure enter the building before collapsing into sobs.

Her fingers scratched at the cab windows and tears streamed down Elaina's face. The thought of Sherlock's impending demise made her frantic. She pounded on the window and screamed at the top of her lungs before her voice gave out. She was ultimately alone and the one person she had decided to trust was gone and he was going to die. She had noticed the crazy light shining in the cabbie's eyes. Before she could freak out more, she rummaged around in her thought process. _Trust_. She trusted Sherlock Holmes. The oblivious sociopath who had little to no emotions? That Sherlock? But Elaina knew she would be devastated if her new friend was to die.

While she was puzzling over the mystery of her emotions, Elaina had hunkered down and John had strolled right past her. He looked indecisively between the twin buildings, before choosing the building on the left. Wasting no more time, he sped into the collage building, leaving Elaina oblivious to his presence.

Elaina finally stopped pondering the nature of these maternal instincts and reached into her back pocket, groping for her phone before stopping short. She had left it in 221B where it now sat, virtually useless, on Mrs. Hudson's bathroom sink. Elaina sunk into herself and curled herself into a fetal position. If only she had stopped Sherlock. If only she had insisted on going with the cabbie, into the darkened halls. If only she had just shot the cabbie in the bac of his head, while he was driving them to the collage. Just as she thought that, a gunshot rang through the air. Elaina began hyperventilating. Sherlock was dead. That was the only thing that a gunshot would mean. There was no way that Sherlock could have pulled the gun. He was to innocent. He was hooked in the case and he would never have killed the murderer. She buried her head in her hands and broke down in despair. Elaina was usually and optimistic person but recently the stress of being forced back to London and losing her boyfriend and now Sherlock was too much. She was already sleep deprived and this just wasn't a good day for her.

As she surrendered to her desolation a whacking noise aroused her. Lestrade peered into the car and halted his motion as he saw his employee rolled into a ball, and shaking slightly.

"Elaina?" He asked warily. The girl responded by throwing her arms around the handsome inspector and clinging to him. He rocked with the force of her tearful attack. He was also confused why she was locked in a car and sobbing in his arms.

"S-s-sherlock!" She wailed in despair. "He's dead isn't he?"

Elaina caught sight of a body, limp and lifeless, being hauled into an ambulance with a white sheet covering what had to be the detective. Her eyes glazed over and she sat down hard on the car seat. Lestrade whistled to a nearby officer, who grabbed an orange blanket and draped it over Elaina. She didn't even acknowledge it. Lestrade gripped her face in his weathered hands. "Sherlock's not dead. He's fine." His explanation fell upon deaf ears as she saw the curly haired detective perched on the edge of an ambulance. The same orange blanket that covered Elaina also rested on Sherlock's lean shoulders. Elaina stood up abruptly, startling Lestrade, and walked, as though in a trance, over to the detective. She approached him and leaned down to look into his eyes.

'Ah. Elaina. You're okay." He muttered, somewhat sheepishly

Elaina rested her hand on his cheek and whispered "You're alive" before winding up her arm and slapping him full on in the face. "How-" "Could-" "You-" "do that to me!" She shrieked, each word punctuated by a sharp slap.

"Ow! Stop that!"

"Oh Sherlock Holmes you deserve so much more. You deserve to _BURN_ for the anxiety attack you caused me."

Sherlock observed the tear tracks on her face and the puffy redness rimming her eyes.

"Nothing to say? Good. Because I'm gone." And with that she flounced away, disappearing into the black night, but not before flinging her shock blanket into the arms of some poor officer, and snarling angry words at Donovan.


	8. Conversation With The Elder

**Okay! Hi all y'all! I'm back. Please don't kill me for being so late. I kept on hoping this chapter would write itself but Noooo! It had to be difficult and make the writer actually do something.**

 **I really am very sorry. I hope this one will make up for my unforgivable absence.**

 **I was wondering how to improve this story and I have a sort of idea.**

 **Please let me know what you think**

 **PEACE!**

 **-The-Non-Socialite**

 **Conversation with The Elder**

Elaina flung her blanket into the arms of a shocked officer and proceeded to leave the crime scene. Just as she was almost free of the yellow rope when a smug Donovan stalked up to her, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. Elaina just sighed in defeat. She really didn't want to talk to her annoying coworker but it was obviously Donovan's intent.

"Donovan. You're…here." Elaina tried for a smile but it was weak and halfhearted.

"What? Where's freak?" Sally smiled sarcastically.

"He's not a freak and…" Elaina debated how she could please Donovan and explain Sherlock's absence, "We had a row."

"Oh what for?" Sally asked, somewhat sympathetically

"I-I thought he was dead. And he didn't even come to get me out of the car that _he_ locked me in." Elaina's voice rose a bit in her distress.

"Yah. He tends to do that." Donovan looked over her right shoulder "How's that? He looks like he wants to talk to you."

Elaina turned around and sighed again. As much as she didn't want to talk to Donovan, she really didn't want to talk to Mycroft Holmes. Groaning in defeat, she made her way over the nice car and greeted the slightly porky man.

"Mr. Holmes."

"Ms. Robinson."

"Why Mycroft what are you doing here" Elaina mimicked his posh voice. "The last time I saw you, you were breaking into my flat and drugging me so you could force me into a plane."

"Let's just put that all behind us. Now on with a slightly more important matter…" Mycroft's concertation was averted as he saw his brother making his way over to his fancy car. Elaina looked wildly around in distress. "Let's do this once more for old time's sake."

Elaina grinned and slid into the car, peering out the tinted window so Mr. Holmes the younger couldn't see her. The brothers shared a few harsh ice coated words before Sherlock huffed and stalked off. His exterior seemed gruff but a small smile lite upon his sharp features. John talked to Mycroft for a couple more minutes before trailing after his curly haired companion. Elaina rolled down her window and smiled at the elder Holmes.

"Join me won't you?"

"Of course. Hello Caroline." Elaina greeted Mycroft's assistant.

"Come on Ms. Robinson. You're they only one who uses my real name." Caroline said, looking up for her phone.

"Oh. What are they calling you now?"

"Anthea."

"Okay Ms. Anthea."

"If you are quite done with your small talk… There is a matter of national importance. And I need your expertise."

"What? Does it require leg work?' Elaina questioned in a sickly sweet voice.

"Why yes it does."

"Who am I killing now Mr. Holmes?"

"It's not who you are killing. It's who you are helping live." As Mycroft spoke, a medium to tallish height woman with curly short blonde hair appeared. "Ms. Rosamind Mary."

"It's just Mary please." The women said in a polite voice.

"Nice to meet you" Elaina replied. "I'm…"

"Elaina Robinson, yes I know."

Mycroft cut in. "This is Christopher's second cousin. Part of the freelance organization of A.G.R.A."

"Oh I've heard of you. Glad to see you're alive Ms. Mary. You always inspired me. I love your tactics. Of course I mostly kill and don't save but same difference. How isChristopher?"

"Dead." Mary said, her voice flat.

"Oh. I'm so sorry." Elaina's sympathy quite obvious.

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does."

"If you two are quite done…" Mycroft butted in, in his abrupt and bored voice

"Eliana frowned at his obvious lack of sympathy. "Excuse me for asking my role model if she was okay! And you Mycroft! Have some…"

The blonde coughed, reminding the pair of the current situation. She reached out to grasp Elaina's hand in a firm hand shake. Elaina gasped out in agony as Mary griped her hand, knuckles digging into bruises and cuts that marked the pale girl's delicate palms and fingers. Some were leaking small amounts of blood. Nothing medically dangerous but the relentless sting brought tears to the usually strong women's eyes. The emotional wear and tear of this stressful day made for a rather awkward combination of hysteria and pain. Mycroft Holmes gazed at Elaina in wonder and a slightly disturbed facial expression. He didn't exactly understand what she was so emotional about but it was obviously causing her focus to waver and Mycroft would not have his best assassin unfocused. He clicked his tongue at Anthea and the absorbed women snapped out of her gaze, her icy eyes glazed over from staring at her phone for what must have been hours. The bored look on her face dissipated as she caught sight of the younger of the two women clutching her hands to her chest. Anthea's jaw gapped as she took in to flecks of blood dotting the nice yellow tunic that adorned Elaina's figure. Because the blood had been smeared over her shirt, it looked as though Elaina's hands were spewing large amounts of the red liquid. Quickly the women jolted into action, grapping a first aid kit and peeled the balled up fabric away from the assassins damaged hands. Anthea steadied herself, ready to deal with a missing finger, only to be greeted with cut fingers and palms. Her eyes dilated and took and icy sheen in her anger at the silly women's over reaction. Her anger halted in its track as she took in the frightened and scared look that the assassin's eyes held. Elaina honestly looked like a kicked puppy.

"Elaina… Are you…"

"Okay? Not really," Elaina's voice rasped in her throat.

"A-hem… If you three are quite done being so melodramatic!" Mycroft pipped up, drawing the eyes of two motherly and upset females. They opened their mouths to voice their displeasure of his I-could-care-less attitude. Elaina butt in, hoping to stop an argument between the most powerful man in Britain and two pissed off women (Elaina wasn't sure who would win that argument).

"Who is after Roseamind… I mean Mary." Elaina asked as the blonde turned her glare to the younger women.

"Someone big. Someone important. Someone dangerous."

"And you're telling us stop being melodramatic!" Anthea snarled, obviously miffed at her boss.

"Elaina it's your father." Elaina turned pale and her breathing became ragged. "Charles Augustus Magnusson."


	9. JM

**Sorry to leave you at a cliff hanger. I felt bad that I was gone so long. FORGIVE ME!**

 **I'm also changing the perspective to Elaina's. It'll now be 'I'. Sorry for any confusion.**

I looked at Mycroft with obvious disgust. I wasn't actually thinking about Mycroft. All my hatred and disgust was directed at my shitty father. I pulled up a mask of nonchalance. "What do you want me to do about it?" It was a habit of mine, pulling up my mask so nobody saw the inner-turmoil that was running rampant in my mind. Only two people so far could see through it. Mycroft and my father. I really hoped Mycroft had the decency to remain silent. I seriously doubted he would but I liked to be optimistic. To my surprise he kept his mouth shut about my mask.

"I need you to be his daughter."

Wow. Way to be vague Mr. Holmes. "I can't exactly **stop** being his daughter. I wish I could but every time I try to, he uses connections and blackmail to con the people on my case to refuse. It's really quite stupid because he really doesn't even like me," I said before adding under my breath "Heck he hardly tolerates me!" I really hated to admit it but his constant rejection was a little painful.

Mycroft sighed at my obvious stupidity *cough, cough sarcasm cough, cough* "No Elaina. I need him to hire you for a desk job."

"Oh," My spirts deflated.

"Oh for heaven's sake! I need you to get close to him. Soften him up for my bro-" Mycroft broke off abruptly.

"So you're throwing me at my demon shark and rather ugly father to **SOFTEN** him up for Sherlock?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Anthea pipped up. She still looked highly affronted and pissed at Mycroft for dissing me and shrugging off my injury "That's just how MR. HOLMES is. Unfeeling. Robotic…."

"That'll do." Mycroft interrupted "Ms. Robinson do you understand? You must do this. I see how you look at Sher-" It was my time to break him off by scoffing loudly.

"Mycroft really? I thought you were supposed to be the intelligent child. Sherlock and I is an absolutely ludicrous idea." I struggled to contain my laughter but I failed. I did accept Sherlock as a human (which is more than most people do) but I was in no way romantically interested in him. I had learned that emotions lead nowhere. As sad as it was, I had experience. So many romances had been wrong or destroyed that I was past the point of trying. But I always put my duty first. First rule as a soldier.

"Okay Mycroft. I'll do it but you'll have to get me in and then you'll also have to let me resign from the police department without anybody noticing. No-Bo-Dy! Especially not Sherlock." I agreed.

"Done." Mycroft confirmed.

"Of course. Because you already knew what I was going to say right?"

"Actually no Ms. Robinson. You are quite unpredictable."

"Why thank you." And with that, I left the car and prepared to stalk off. Then I realized something. "Uh Mycroft? I don't have my purse so I can't call a cab so can you give me a lift?"

Mycroft sighed but allowed me to crawl back into the limo.

I did not sleep well. Nightmares plagued my sleep and the face of my father floated through my mind but I didn't really care because Sherlock had been right. I hadn't slept for about two days besides my short nap before. I felt much better after sleeping and my reflection was chipper. I seemed to glow. "Cool" I whispered. My door bell rung and I opened my front door to find a thick envelope with the London flag stamped in the corner. It had my name in Mycroft's loopy handwriting and below the envelope was a note.

 _Ms. Robinson_

 _This is your letter of resignation. I have formatted it to your writing style so all will be well._

 _Please turn this in to your department and take the day off. Buy yourself some new clothing for your job._

 _Magnusson does not take kindly to slobs. I have enclosed money in the envelope and I expect you at work tomorrow._

 _Preferably early._

\- _Mycroft_

That was Mycroft for you. I opened the letter and found several thousand pounds. I also found a thick wad of parchment that contained my letter. All seemed to be in order so now I could have fun blowing Mycroft's/ the government's money. Fun.

I donned a gold top and dark jeans and headed to Whistles. The clerk greeted me with a grin and two minutes later I was in ecstasy. I picked out several pencil skirts and made my purchase. Then I headed out to get my nails done. Three hours later, I was armed with heavy bags full of clothing and steadily drying blue nails. I was waiting for the Tube when a young man slammed into me. My purchases went flying and I couldn't catch them, for risk of mussing my nail. Luckily the man was quick and he snagged my things before they could become dirtied on the London streets. He turned to face me, his eyes wide and dark, shadowed by a Union Jack baseball cap. He handed me my clothing and other things and took off. I shook my head. How rude. He hadn't even apologized. I boarded the Tube and sped home.

As I was laying out my conquests a slip of paper caught my eye. Plain notebook paper. I gingerly unfolded the slip and on it were a series of numbers. A phone number. 314-563-1495. And below that were the initials J.M. How odd. I puzzled. Was this an accident. Finally, I couldn't stand the suspense. I took out my phone and dialed the number. A male's voice answered on the third ring.

"Hello?' something about the voice was fake. It was too cheerful.

"Hello. I think you left this number in my bag?"

I could hear the man blushing through the phone "Oh yeah. I don't do that a lot but I really thought that you were um… The name's Jim. Jim Moriarty."

"I'm Elaina Robinson. It's nice to meet you Jim." I was cautious, but he seemed so friendly!

"Say Elaina. Will you meet me at Dumblings Bar on Saturday? For a drink? How 'bout 7:30?" His Scottish lilt was pleasing.

"Yeah. Okay. Good. See you then." I hung up and sighed. That hadn't been normal but how bad could it be? But that name. Jim Moriarty. It bothered me for some reason and I couldn't place it. Whatever. It didn't matter because I had a date.

 **A bit of shameless-self-promotion and my absence will be explained here as well!**

 **I've started a new fanfiction called Foreign. It's Harry Potter and it's pretty good. Please check it out.**

 **That also should explain why I haven't been updating as frequently. I'm trying to do a schedule but it probably**

 **because I'm terribly unorganized. I'll just work on the different ones whenever I feel like it so**

 **I won't have a system. But I'll try to update once a week if possible.**

 **PEACE**

 **The-Non-Socialite**


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